


Complete

by Xyriath



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Ed-level cursing, Fluff, Fuhrer Roy Mustang, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:58:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5208431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xyriath/pseuds/Xyriath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are certain expectations in life, in a relationship, and Ed knows that.  He's just not sure he can meet them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Complete

Al’s gasp was audible over the line, and Ed winced. Shit. He’d said too much.

“You mean he _asked_ you, brother? And you said—“

“I _said_ ,” Ed snapped, interrupting, “no. Like the answer to your question, which is also no, and this is the _end_ of this conversation!”

“But—“

At the continuing tone of protest in Al’s voice, Ed yanked the receiver away from his ear and slammed it down, ignoring the twinge of guilt in his chest. It wasn’t difficult: the discomfort rocking through him from the fucking _inquisition_ that Al had just put him through drowned it out with ease. At that thought, Ed reached around to the back of the phone, yanking out the cord, and then checking to ensure that the dial tone no longer sounded when he picked up the receiver.

“You know,” Roy called, voice mild as he kneaded the dough across the kitchen, “that line connects to the upstairs, too.”

“Yeah, well, if it rings, then I’m not fuckin’ here,” Ed muttered, shoving his hands in his pockets and shooting a sidelong glance at Roy. He had to admit, the guy looked good. Even though, as Fuhrer, he could have hired a thousand servants to make his food, apparently he liked getting floury and sticky regardless.

Ed did have to admit that there was a certain charm to it all—especially, he thought, a grin spreading across his face, the confidence with which Roy wore the maid-print apron, bought for him as a joke for his inauguration. Roy, however, had been thrilled when Ed had given him the gift to the point where Ed was almost embarrassed, especially after he realized that, tongue-in-cheek design aside, that everyone considered baking-related gifts beneath him, despite the joy Ed had found it brought him. After that, Ed had made a point to pick up different bakingware whenever gift giving came around. The delight in Roy’s eyes, the breathless kisses, the joy it brought Roy to use them to create, all of it made Ed’s heart positively _ache_ with happiness.

So what, he wondered, his fond smile fading, was the matter with him?

“Do you mind if I ask what it was you fought about?” Roy asked, now slowly shaping the dough into a log. It was mesmerizing to watch, honestly. “Nothing serious, I hope.”

“What?” Ed glanced away from the dough back up to Roy’s face, eyes softening as they took in the expression. A relaxed Roy was a rare sight nowadays, and any time Ed caught a glimpse, it was like Christmas. “Oh, nah. I just…” He grimaced, then shifted from foot to foot. “He kinda found out about the balcony. The one at the inauguration.”

Roy went completely still, hands pausing in the midst of shaping his dough log. He didn’t look over at Ed, just stared at his hands, and Ed’s stomach did a somersault.

“And what did he have to say?”

“Thinks I’m an idiot,” Ed muttered, turning away and quickly retreating to his study. Watching Roy was nice and all, but he had articles to edit.

—

“Do I disappoint you?”

The words escaped Ed’s mouth, unbidden, as he saw Roy enter the room out of the corner of his eye. He was staring at the articles—none of them had been touched, of course—intently enough to set them on fire if he willed it hard enough.

“Why do you ask that?” As Ed turned, Roy made his way over to sit on the couch—leaving enough room for Ed if he chose to join him, but not too much, making sure not to pressure him.

See? This—this was the kind of shit that made Roy perfect. And made Ed wonder, yet again, what was wrong with himself.

“For saying no.” Ed stood and walked over, sitting next to Roy and leaning insistently into his side until Roy lifted an arm to tuck Ed underneath it. Ed pressed into him instantly, hands going out to wrap around Roy’s waist.

“You don’t disappoint me,” Roy murmured, reaching up to stroke Ed’s hair. “I respect your decision, and would never want to force you anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

Ed half-closed his eyes at the hair petting, but it wasn’t good enough to distract him from the tone in Roy’s voice. “But?”

“But...” Roy sighed. “But, I just would like to understand why.”

Why. Now, that was a good question. One that if, on that night, the perfect, starry night with lightning bugs around, soft music filtering from inside, a private balcony, and just the two of them, he had been able to answer, they could have avoided these months of awkwardness.

“I just don’t see why,” Ed blurted out. “We don’t need it. Not like that. We’re _good_ together, the way we are—why can’t it be good enough? Why do we need to do something extra and—and fuckin’ _arbitrary_ to prove that we love each other.”

“That’s not what it means, Edward, not what I mean—“

“But that’s what it means to _me._ ” Ed exhaled, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. This was why, why he hadn’t brought it up, why he hadn’t defended himself to Al, why why why why—because no one understood.

He pulled back, looking up at Roy intently.

“I don’t like the idea that we’re less complete like this.”

Roy’s face softened at that, and he reached out, fingers barely brushing underneath Ed’s chin, thumb tracing down his cheek. “We’re not less than complete. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

Ed swallowed, looking away, but he didn’t move his head enough to make Roy stop touching him. “I… I like how we are. We love each other. I already _want_ to spend the rest of my life with you. We can do that without—“

“We can,” Roy murmured, reaching out to pull him in, and Ed allowed it—then promptly buried his face in Roy’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Ed muttered, voice muffled, but breathing in Roy’s scent, a faintly smoky and sharp spiciness with an earthiness that seemed to get warmer when he was closer to Ed. “I don’t wanna ruin this.”

“You aren’t.” Roy pulled away a little, then cupped Ed’s face and kissed it gently. “You’re right. We don’t need it. I’ll always be here if you change your mind, but I’ll also be here if you don’t.”

The knot in Ed’s heart loosened again, beginning to unravel completely.

“You mean it?” he asked, hating how childish he sounded, but needing to hear it.

“I mean it.” Roy squeezed for a moment, and Ed made a tiny noise.

“Now we just gotta stop Al from askin’ about it. Ever since he and Winry—“

“You have my solemn word, if Alphonse calls, I will either completely misdirect him from the subject or give him a very thorough explanation of topics we do not want discussed.”

Ed couldn’t help the huff of laughter that escaped his mouth.  “God, I hope I get to listen to that conversation.”  He tilted his head back, examining Roy’s face, then reached up to swipe at the smudge of flour across Roy’s nose, then his cheek.  After a few rubs, the offending white streaks, adorable as they were, had vanished.  As soon as he finished, Roy reached out to pull him back in.  “You’ll let me listen, right?”

Roy’s deep laughter at that, rumbling in Ed’s ear, down his chest, through his bones, was answer enough.


End file.
